I’m really not one for Christmas albums, mostly that stuff I find really shallow, fuelled by the stereotypical tropes of global north imagery and consumeristic sentiment… not to speak of the musical quality… ‘like a screeching cockatoo’, someone described most Christmas tunes… it just gets stuck in your head.
Recently my wife shared with me on Spotify Paul Kelly’s Christmas album - Maybe this Christmas - It came out in 2023… There are some really beautiful originals, as well as covers of classics. So it has been getting a good run… But it was the title track that caught my attention, ‘Maybe this Christmas’,
Maybe this Christmas will mean something more
Maybe this year love will appear
Deeper than ever before
And maybe forgiveness will ask us to call
Someone we love, someone we've lost
For reasons we can’t quite recall
Maybe this Christmas
Maybe there’ll be an open door
Maybe the star that shone before
Will shine once more
Maybe this Christmas will find us at last
In heavenly peace, grateful at least
For the love we've been shown in the past
Maybe this Christmas
Maybe there’ll be an open door
Maybe the star that shone before
Will shine once more
Maybe this Christmas, maybe this Christmas
There's something in these lyrics that has both resonated and, in a way, disturbed me over the past few weeks. Something that has tapped into my own hopes and dreams that come to the surface at this time of the year. Maybe this year will be more special, more meaningful… more of what we hope Christmas could be and more of what we hope to be like ourselves.
For many of us, this time of the year is a real struggle, between the reality of what is now and what we hope for tomorrow… something of a microcosm of what is happening eternally. We all want the year to end well, to enjoy that wonderful family Christmas celebration or to have that ‘special’ Christmas feeling… but in reality, there is so much more going on.
As I’m sure it is for many others, I get to this time of the year and the thought of opening myself up again to the ‘maybe’ – to God, to change, to a new possibility or even opening up old questions – is exhausting. To be honest, I’m more focused on the Boxing Day Test and tuning out for a few weeks!
Working for Tearfund, I’m acutely aware that as we reflect on the challenges facing the world today, the need for Christ’s intervention feels as urgent as any time I can recall. The world (as the Apostle Paul so aptly described) is ‘groaning’, with so much violence, fear, injustice, poverty, greed; not to mention the environmental challenges that continue to accelerate and unfold.
So the idea of opening myself up again to 'maybe'… well, it’s hard… but as we read through Matthew’s gospel story, that is our invitation this Christmas.
I like reading through the two accounts (from Matthew and Luke) of Jesus' birth separately, and in their entirety. Each time I do, I’m reminded of all the cultural mash-ups of Jesus' birth that exist both in our popular culture as well as in our Christian narratives. I still can’t find the bit where Mary is riding on a donkey!
Set in the context of longing and waiting for a messiah, Matthew’s account of Jesus' birth and the immediate family and historical consequences is a powerful mix of cosmic imagery, brutal violence, fragile hope and imperial repression. Waiting for one that would bring about personal salvation, restoration and freedom.
Matthew clearly wants us to be reminded that the land was ruled as part of the Roman Empire, with Emperor Augustus in charge at the time and that all went to be registered, a type of census… Which when you are part of a military industrial empire such as it was, wasn’t to work out how to fund the NDIS or improve medicare accessibility to remote regions. The need to fund and grow the empire was paramount.
Under the local authorities - King Herod - the local figure, who wasn’t really a king at all, was in charge of doing the emperor's bidding. We know from both Matthew’s and Luke’s accounts of Jesus' birth that Herod was completely threatened by Jesus' birth and the meaning and significance others, most notably three ‘wise men’ from the east, had placed upon it.
So Herod seeks to find him and in realising he has been tricked by the Magi, we read in Matthew 2:16 - he was infuriated, and in response orders the killing of all male children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under. However Jesus and his family, we are told, are no longer there. In Matthew’s gospel, they have fled to Egypt - remaining there until the death of Herod… a change in the ruling Jewish establishment!
So the context is a harsh time… with terrible echoes to the present day. It’s a context where hope was scarce, where religious and imperial violence were the dominant narratives that framed your everyday. Where the people struggled under layers of taxation and extortion. Were the longing for change and a messiah no doubt was an ongoing and daily struggle to keep alive.
Perhaps because of the work I’m involved with, but also because of the succession of major events in the world over the past few years, I’ve found myself feeling incredibly despondent about the state of the world today. Maybe I’m just getting older?
I’ve been involved with Tearfund now for over two decades. We don’t have to look far to find the stories that rob us of hope - particularly when we look at the global picture and the multiple, interconnected challenges that we face.
Our work alongside our Christian partners around the world works in many of the hardest and most challenging contexts… places such as Afghanistan, Yemen, Sudan and South Sudan, Myanmar… The list goes on. Places where conflict, poverty and climate change are at their most extreme. Places where, from the outside at least, hope can be hard to find.
With this question of hope in our minds at Tearfund, earlier this year we commissioned a piece of research to understand how hopeful Australians are feeling about their own lives, their communities and about the world today. We plan to repeat the research annually for the next three years and have now published the first lot of findings in what we have called The Global Hope Report.
This research isn’t just about having a snapshot of insight into community attitudes. It’s about responding to the moment we find ourselves in as the church today.
To do the research we partnered with leading research agency NCLS Research, who surveyed around 1200 Australians from all walks of life, to end up with five key findings that make up the Global Hope Report. The findings recognise people’s current levels of concern and hope, and explore how belief in God, religious and spiritual practices, and fellowship affect these things.
Those interviewed are from across Australia, all walks of life, faith background etc. I won’t go deep into the report now, but do encourage you to download it and explore what the implications are for you and your community. But here are some highlights:
Only around half of Australians (48%) are hopeful about their own future,
That number drops as people reflect on how hopeful they feel about the future of their community, the nation, and the world. To the point that only 1/4 or 25% are hopeful about the future of the world.
Hope is highest when it is personal and close to home. It decreases with greater distance and the growing scale at which change is needed.
In an open field for comments, a number reflected the interconnection between hope and people’s sense of agency to act. Hope is higher where we feel able to influence change. This is easier for people to see in their own lives and harder to see at a global level.
Australians who believe in a personal God are most likely to have hope about the future of the world, whereas less than 1 in 5 Australians who don’t know or do not believe in God are hopeful
The research also found that people who pray or meditate more frequently (daily or weekly) are more hopeful about the future of the world compared to those who never pray and/or meditate.
The season of Advent leading into Christmas is one big festival of rituals and expectations, end of year celebrations, work break ups, the list goes on.
But as we return to this question of ‘maybe’, and reflect on what it means to be people of ‘hope’ in our world today, I wonder what rituals, practices and commitments we might do differently or emphasise this year?
What practices of hope might better reflect the true reality of the Christmas story as reflected in Mattthew’s gospel? And what practices can we develop personally, or in our families and through our faith communities that really open up the possibility of hope this Christmas?
In thinking about this I was reminded of the practice of Los Posadas (the passage) that is practiced on the US Mexico border. You can google and find out more about it, but in short Las Posadas commemorates the journey that Joseph and Mary made from Nazareth to Bethlehem in search of a safe refuge where Mary could give birth to the baby Jesus.
Each evening during the festival, a small child dressed as an angel leads a procession through the streets of the town. The procession is primarily made up of children dressed in silver and gold robes carrying lit candles and images of Mary and Joseph. Adults, including musicians, follow the procession, which visits selected homes and asks for lodging for Joseph and Mary.
Traditionally, the procession is always refused lodging, though the hosts often provide refreshments. At each stop, passages of scripture are read and Christmas carols are sung. Finally, at the last house, the holy family are provided with a room and here the community gathers to remember the Christmas story and what it means to provide hospitality to others.
The location where Los Posadas is practiced shouldn’t be overlooked. We all know about the migration challenges on the Mexico/US border and the huge social challenges there. What I love about this corporate practice is that it is bringing the biblical story and the concept of hope to life in a very real and tangible way for the people in these communities.
What about us, what might we open ourselves up to this year? How are we stepping into God’s eternal invitation of hope… maybe this Christmas, maybe this coming year? I’ll close by sharing three thoughts along those lines:
Firstly, Signs and wonders. Maybe this year, as we can commit ourselves anew, we can make space for quiet and stillness, to hear God’s voice. And maybe as we do this, we are also making room for signs and wonders to be seen and understood. To be more aware and open to what God is doing within each of us, in the world and amongst our community. And as we do, maybe we can again step out in faith and with courage to follow the star that leads to Christ, like the wise people of old!
Secondly, Maybe, this year as we as we turn again to Jesus, we are committing too to make room for others in our lives… to be praying for one another…for our brothers and sisters overseas, to be thinking about what it means to be people who are witnessing to God’s Kingdom and his justice, in a world which is increasingly hostile to hospitality and others. A world where there is increasingly no room for the vulnerable. Maybe this Christmas season we can consider again what it means for us to make room?
Finally, maybe this Christmas we can commit ourselves to be; people, families and communities that can generously respond to God’s most amazing gift - Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us. Moving beyond the prevailing narratives of fear and self preservation, and responding by giving generously to others in our world as a reflection of God’s love for all of us.
Maybe this Christmas.
